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袟邪 谢邪褕褌褍薪泻邪屑懈 胁 屑褍蟹械褩
袛械斜褞褌薪懈泄 褉芯屑邪薪 袣械泄褌 袗褌泻褨薪褋芯薪, 褖芯 芯写褉邪蟹褍 褋褌邪胁 泻薪懈卸泻芯褞 褉芯泻褍 蟹邪 胁械褉褋褨褦褞 袙褨褌斜褉械写褨胁褋褜泻芯褩 锌褉械屑褨褩 (薪懈薪褨 锌褉械屑褨褟 袣芯褋褌邪).
袚芯谢芯胁薪邪 谐械褉芯褩薪褟 褉芯屑邪薪褍, 袪褍斜褨 袥械薪薪芯泻褋, 芯锌懈褋褍褦 褋胁芯褦 卸懈褌褌褟 胁褨写 屑芯屑械薪褌褍 蟹邪褔邪褌褌褟, 邪谢械 蟹 褏芯写芯屑 褋褞卸械褌褍 胁懈褟胁谢褟褦褌褜褋褟, 褖芯 褉芯蟹锌芯胁褨写褜 锌褉芯 斜褍写褜-泻芯谐芯 褨蟹 薪邪褋 褌褉械斜邪 锌芯褔懈薪邪褌懈 蟹薪邪褔薪芯 褉邪薪褨褕械: 芯褋芯斜懈褋褌邪 褨褋褌芯褉褨褟 薪械褉芯蟹褉懈胁薪芯 锌械褉械锌谢褨褌邪褦褌褜褋褟 蟹 胁械谢懈泻懈屑懈 锌芯写褨褟屑懈 写芯斜懈, 屑褨褋褌邪 褋泻谢邪写邪褞褌褜褋褟 蟹 薪邪褕邪褉褍胁邪薪褜 褍褋褨褏 械锌芯褏, 褖芯 薪懈屑懈 锌褉芯泻芯褌懈谢懈褋褟, 邪 斜褍写褜-褟泻邪 褋褨屑鈥櫻� 锌褉懈薪邪泄屑薪褨 薪邪锌芯谢芯胁懈薪褍 褋泻谢邪写邪褦褌褜褋褟 蟹 褉芯写懈薪薪懈褏 褋泻械谢械褌褨胁 褍 褕邪褎褨. 笑褟 褌褉芯褏懈 褋褞褉褉械邪谢褨褋褌懈褔薪邪 褨褋褌芯褉褨褟, 写械 胁褨写 褌褉邪谐械写褨褩 写芯 胁芯写械胁褨谢褞 芯写懈薪 泻褉芯泻, 邪 褉懈屑褋褜泻褨 谢械谐褨芯薪械褉懈 褋褍褋褨写褍褞褌褜 褨蟹 泄芯褉泻褕懈褉褋褜泻懈屑懈 褎械褉屑械褉邪屑懈 啸袉啸 褋褌芯谢褨褌褌褟 褌邪 锌褨谢芯褌邪屑懈 褔邪褋褨胁 袛褉褍谐芯褩 褋胁褨褌芯胁芯褩 胁褨泄薪懈, 蟹邪锌褉芯褕褍褦 褔懈褌邪褔褨胁 写芯 邪褉褏械芯谢芯谐褨褔薪懈褏 褉芯蟹泻芯锌芯泻 褍 褉芯写懈薪薪褨泄 褌邪 褨褋褌芯褉懈褔薪褨泄 锌邪屑鈥櫻徰傃�.
袚芯谢芯胁薪邪 谐械褉芯褩薪褟 褉芯屑邪薪褍, 袪褍斜褨 袥械薪薪芯泻褋, 芯锌懈褋褍褦 褋胁芯褦 卸懈褌褌褟 胁褨写 屑芯屑械薪褌褍 蟹邪褔邪褌褌褟, 邪谢械 蟹 褏芯写芯屑 褋褞卸械褌褍 胁懈褟胁谢褟褦褌褜褋褟, 褖芯 褉芯蟹锌芯胁褨写褜 锌褉芯 斜褍写褜-泻芯谐芯 褨蟹 薪邪褋 褌褉械斜邪 锌芯褔懈薪邪褌懈 蟹薪邪褔薪芯 褉邪薪褨褕械: 芯褋芯斜懈褋褌邪 褨褋褌芯褉褨褟 薪械褉芯蟹褉懈胁薪芯 锌械褉械锌谢褨褌邪褦褌褜褋褟 蟹 胁械谢懈泻懈屑懈 锌芯写褨褟屑懈 写芯斜懈, 屑褨褋褌邪 褋泻谢邪写邪褞褌褜褋褟 蟹 薪邪褕邪褉褍胁邪薪褜 褍褋褨褏 械锌芯褏, 褖芯 薪懈屑懈 锌褉芯泻芯褌懈谢懈褋褟, 邪 斜褍写褜-褟泻邪 褋褨屑鈥櫻� 锌褉懈薪邪泄屑薪褨 薪邪锌芯谢芯胁懈薪褍 褋泻谢邪写邪褦褌褜褋褟 蟹 褉芯写懈薪薪懈褏 褋泻械谢械褌褨胁 褍 褕邪褎褨. 笑褟 褌褉芯褏懈 褋褞褉褉械邪谢褨褋褌懈褔薪邪 褨褋褌芯褉褨褟, 写械 胁褨写 褌褉邪谐械写褨褩 写芯 胁芯写械胁褨谢褞 芯写懈薪 泻褉芯泻, 邪 褉懈屑褋褜泻褨 谢械谐褨芯薪械褉懈 褋褍褋褨写褍褞褌褜 褨蟹 泄芯褉泻褕懈褉褋褜泻懈屑懈 褎械褉屑械褉邪屑懈 啸袉啸 褋褌芯谢褨褌褌褟 褌邪 锌褨谢芯褌邪屑懈 褔邪褋褨胁 袛褉褍谐芯褩 褋胁褨褌芯胁芯褩 胁褨泄薪懈, 蟹邪锌褉芯褕褍褦 褔懈褌邪褔褨胁 写芯 邪褉褏械芯谢芯谐褨褔薪懈褏 褉芯蟹泻芯锌芯泻 褍 褉芯写懈薪薪褨泄 褌邪 褨褋褌芯褉懈褔薪褨泄 锌邪屑鈥櫻徰傃�.
352 pages, Hardcover
First published March 9, 1995
2123 people are currently reading
25027 people want to read
About the author
Kate Atkinson
71听books11.9k听followersKate Atkinson was born in York and now lives in Edinburgh. Her first novel, Behind the Scenes at the Museum, won the Whitbread Book of the Year Award and she has been a critically acclaimed international bestselling author ever since.
She is the author of a collection of short stories, Not the End of the World, and of the critically acclaimed novels Human Croquet, Emotionally Weird, Case Histories, and One Good Turn.
Case Histories introduced her readers to Jackson Brodie, former police inspector turned private investigator, and won the Saltire Book of the Year Award and the Prix Westminster.
When Will There Be Good News? was voted Richard & Judy Book Best Read of the Year. After Case Histories and One Good Turn, it was her third novel to feature the former private detective Jackson Brodie, who makes a welcome return in Started Early, Took My Dog.
She is the author of a collection of short stories, Not the End of the World, and of the critically acclaimed novels Human Croquet, Emotionally Weird, Case Histories, and One Good Turn.
Case Histories introduced her readers to Jackson Brodie, former police inspector turned private investigator, and won the Saltire Book of the Year Award and the Prix Westminster.
When Will There Be Good News? was voted Richard & Judy Book Best Read of the Year. After Case Histories and One Good Turn, it was her third novel to feature the former private detective Jackson Brodie, who makes a welcome return in Started Early, Took My Dog.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 3,540 reviews
March 7, 2016
"As a family, we are genetically disposed towards having accidents."
First and foremost, this is a challenging ambitious book, more so than Life after Life. The narrative is a labyrinth of twists and turns, false trails, loops and double helixes. There鈥檚 also an awful lot to remember because for some time it isn鈥檛 obvious which details or even characters are paramount and which stuffing. It covers four generations of a family 鈥� from WW1 almost to the present day.
On the surface it鈥檚 a tragi-comedy, a family saga, primarily narrated by Ruby Lennox, born in the 1950s. You could though say it鈥檚 a gradual debunking of family mythology to find deeper more consequential truths. All families have their mythologies 鈥� anecdotes or opportunistic fabrications that play the historian鈥檚 role in simplifying and sanitising the official story. That these anecdotes are often a form of deliberate mystification or downright evasive lies on the part of one individual we all know (or suspect) from our own families. The series currently on TV about Bloomsbury is an example of taking mythology at face value and presenting it as the whole truth. It鈥檚 one reason why the series is so wooden and bloodless. Because the writer has failed utterly to imaginatively penetrate the various anecdotes that have come to (erroneously) define Bloomsbury 鈥� so we have Virginia Woolf as some dessicated twittering bundle of nerves who鈥檚 frigid and socially barely able to string a coherent sentence together.
What Atkinson does is to lay down first the mythology 鈥� often created by parents who don鈥檛 want their children to know certain shameful truths 鈥� and then slowly peel off that outer crust. Individual memory is continually altering collective memory. The (often opportunistic) nature of memory is a central theme. And memory is often shown to reside in the secret history of objects, all of which Atkinson describes and utilises brilliantly as cyphers of more enduring truths than the fabrications created by the adult world for children. She plays all these memory games with an ingenious series of chapters known as 鈥渇ootnotes鈥�. (She also lays down a mirroring impression of York itself as a city haunted by phantoms and mythologies).
Ruby鈥檚 mother Bunty is the fulcrum of the novel 鈥� the reservoir in which all the family memories have collected but she is not a reliable historian because of the severely disciplined (or repressed) nature of her emotions so when she loses her memory to dementia there is the sense that Ruby is finally free of the spurious shackles of her family history.
This is one of those novels that becomes more ingenious the more you think about it. I didn鈥檛 always enjoy it while reading it (one problem I had was that my sense of humour doesn鈥檛 quite chime with Atkinson鈥檚 which can verge on slapstick at times). There鈥檚 also so little tenderness in the book. It鈥檚 a rather brittle grey heartless world Atkinson depicts. Mothers do not love their children or their husbands. Children often don鈥檛 like their siblings. (The tone is anything but bleak though; almost it's lighthearted even when touching on tragic events. This is one of the clever quirks of this novel. It should be bleak but it manages to be exuberant often.)
There鈥檚 also a huge cast of characters and I found it virtually impossible to retain memory of them all. And a number of clever plotting tricks that continually knock you out of your sense of being able to easily follow the narrative. As a reading experience I would have given it three stars but, as I said, only now am I beginning to understand its complexities of design and intent. I have this overriding feeling it鈥檚 a novel that will reveal more of its brilliant ingenuity on a second reading.
There鈥檚 also one of the best descriptions of Italian spoken in anger I鈥檝e ever come across when it鈥檚 described as being embroidered in blood.
First and foremost, this is a challenging ambitious book, more so than Life after Life. The narrative is a labyrinth of twists and turns, false trails, loops and double helixes. There鈥檚 also an awful lot to remember because for some time it isn鈥檛 obvious which details or even characters are paramount and which stuffing. It covers four generations of a family 鈥� from WW1 almost to the present day.
On the surface it鈥檚 a tragi-comedy, a family saga, primarily narrated by Ruby Lennox, born in the 1950s. You could though say it鈥檚 a gradual debunking of family mythology to find deeper more consequential truths. All families have their mythologies 鈥� anecdotes or opportunistic fabrications that play the historian鈥檚 role in simplifying and sanitising the official story. That these anecdotes are often a form of deliberate mystification or downright evasive lies on the part of one individual we all know (or suspect) from our own families. The series currently on TV about Bloomsbury is an example of taking mythology at face value and presenting it as the whole truth. It鈥檚 one reason why the series is so wooden and bloodless. Because the writer has failed utterly to imaginatively penetrate the various anecdotes that have come to (erroneously) define Bloomsbury 鈥� so we have Virginia Woolf as some dessicated twittering bundle of nerves who鈥檚 frigid and socially barely able to string a coherent sentence together.
What Atkinson does is to lay down first the mythology 鈥� often created by parents who don鈥檛 want their children to know certain shameful truths 鈥� and then slowly peel off that outer crust. Individual memory is continually altering collective memory. The (often opportunistic) nature of memory is a central theme. And memory is often shown to reside in the secret history of objects, all of which Atkinson describes and utilises brilliantly as cyphers of more enduring truths than the fabrications created by the adult world for children. She plays all these memory games with an ingenious series of chapters known as 鈥渇ootnotes鈥�. (She also lays down a mirroring impression of York itself as a city haunted by phantoms and mythologies).
Ruby鈥檚 mother Bunty is the fulcrum of the novel 鈥� the reservoir in which all the family memories have collected but she is not a reliable historian because of the severely disciplined (or repressed) nature of her emotions so when she loses her memory to dementia there is the sense that Ruby is finally free of the spurious shackles of her family history.
This is one of those novels that becomes more ingenious the more you think about it. I didn鈥檛 always enjoy it while reading it (one problem I had was that my sense of humour doesn鈥檛 quite chime with Atkinson鈥檚 which can verge on slapstick at times). There鈥檚 also so little tenderness in the book. It鈥檚 a rather brittle grey heartless world Atkinson depicts. Mothers do not love their children or their husbands. Children often don鈥檛 like their siblings. (The tone is anything but bleak though; almost it's lighthearted even when touching on tragic events. This is one of the clever quirks of this novel. It should be bleak but it manages to be exuberant often.)
There鈥檚 also a huge cast of characters and I found it virtually impossible to retain memory of them all. And a number of clever plotting tricks that continually knock you out of your sense of being able to easily follow the narrative. As a reading experience I would have given it three stars but, as I said, only now am I beginning to understand its complexities of design and intent. I have this overriding feeling it鈥檚 a novel that will reveal more of its brilliant ingenuity on a second reading.
There鈥檚 also one of the best descriptions of Italian spoken in anger I鈥檝e ever come across when it鈥檚 described as being embroidered in blood.
December 21, 2022
's critically and reading group lauded 'masterpiece' covering the intricate lives of a Yorkshire family from the end of the 19th century to the 1990s... which I found good, but nowhere near as good as many others found it. A solid Three Star, 6 out of 12. As ever, after reading an Atkinson book, I ask myself, why I have not read more of her work?
2013 read
2013 read
July 5, 2007
God, I can't even begin to express my depth of loathing for this book. I forced myself through to within about 60 pages of the end, but then I just couldn't bear it any more. I just didn't want to know any more about the vile people in this ridiculous family with all their dark, dirty, entirely predictable secrets.
Gaaaah! I left it behind on a plane somewhere. Should have attached a toxic warning label.
Gaaaah! I left it behind on a plane somewhere. Should have attached a toxic warning label.
February 9, 2020
4.5鈽� (January 2018)
鈥淎t the moment at which I moved from nothingness into being my mother was pretending to be asleep - as she often does at such moments. My father, however, is made of stern stuff and he didn't let that put him off.鈥�
And this, dear reader, is how we meet Ruby Lennox. During her life, she often announces herself by calling out 鈥淚t鈥檚 just Ruby!鈥�, but she鈥檚 often addressed as 鈥淪hutupRuby!鈥� She tells her family鈥檚 story in the first person, and mixed with her earliest memories (admittedly a lot earlier than any of mine, or, I daresay, yours) are many other people. Lots of other people. Lots and lots of other people. And they鈥檙e all related, one way or another. Or would be, if they鈥檇 married as intended.
Ruby is speaking 鈥渢oday鈥� about her past and the present, while the others鈥� stories are told in the third person by the author. We always know when it鈥檚 Ruby, but my goodness I get my mothers and grand-mothers and great-aunts and not-really-aunts-but-probably-father鈥檚-floozy mixed up! It鈥檚 not that they aren鈥檛 described well. It鈥檚 just that sometimes there鈥檚 so much back story that I start following that thread and losing the main one.
Reading Atkinson is like looking through someone鈥檚 photograph album with them and as they get to a group picture, they point to someone in the back row and say (this is me talking, not Atkinson) 鈥淥h, that鈥檚 Eve! I must tell you about her. She was such a character and my cousin Adam absolutely adored her and would do anything for her. In fact, once when they were in this garden, she found an apple tree and . . . 鈥�
And there鈥檚 a long, drawn-out story that recurs now and then about them and their children who used to play with someone else鈥檚 children and they all grew up and went off to war, except for the poor sickly one who died of diphtheria, that was so sad, and . . . I get so caught up in that story that I completely lose track of what relationship the original person in the photo had to do with Ruby (or her people), that I forget where I was.
But it almost doesn鈥檛 matter. I don鈥檛 remember if she鈥檚 writing about WW1 or WW2, except that the trenches were One and the aerial dogfights were Two, and 鈥渨e鈥� (Ruby鈥檚 family) lost people in both of them, although I couldn鈥檛 tell you who was lost in which one.
War is a major backdrop to some sections. Some boyfriends and would-be fianc茅s march off, never to return. Atkinson reduces the cast numbers by a chap here or there, but she also gives us some unintended pregnancies here or there, so life goes on.
鈥淏unty had great hopes for the war; there was something attractive about the way it took away certainty and created new possibilities. Betty said it was like tossing coins in the air and wondering where they would land - and it made it much more likely that something exciting would happen to Bunty and it didn't really matter whether it was the unbelievably handsome man or a bomb - it would all mean a change in one way or another.鈥�
I have a sneaking suspicion that the author found this to be true of war as well. It would make something happen.
鈥淚n the end, Bunty's war had been a disappointment. She lost something in the war but she didn't find out until it was too late that it was the chance to be somebody else. Somewhere at the back of Bunty's dreams another war would always play - a war in which she manned searchlights and loaded ack-acks, a war in which she was resourceful and beautiful, not to mention plucky and where 'String of Pearls' played endlessly in the de Grey Rooms as a succession of unbelievably handsome officers whirled Bunty off into another life.鈥�
Atkinson did write a novel called , which was perhaps inspired by Bunty鈥檚 dreams, who knows?
This was her first novel, and what a wonderful and convoluted story it is. I love the writing, the descriptions, and the characters 鈥� some stoic, some comic, some quite mad. Not a one of them is boring. I just wish I could keep the generations straight!
An example of her writing that I enjoy:
鈥淪he pushes her hair back from her forehead in a centuries old genetic gesture of suffering. The life of a woman is hard and she'll be damned if anyone is going to rob her of her sainthood.鈥�
Another:
鈥�. . . he was looking at the night sky above him, spread out like an astronomer's map. And then a wave of blackness crept slowly across the sky as somebody rolled up the map."
I just wish there were a cast of characters and a big family tree, neighbours included, for people like me. I'd have given it five stars if I'd had that!
[Read and reviewed Jan 2018. I mention that because 欧宝娱乐 sometimes mixes up the dates.]
鈥淎t the moment at which I moved from nothingness into being my mother was pretending to be asleep - as she often does at such moments. My father, however, is made of stern stuff and he didn't let that put him off.鈥�
And this, dear reader, is how we meet Ruby Lennox. During her life, she often announces herself by calling out 鈥淚t鈥檚 just Ruby!鈥�, but she鈥檚 often addressed as 鈥淪hutupRuby!鈥� She tells her family鈥檚 story in the first person, and mixed with her earliest memories (admittedly a lot earlier than any of mine, or, I daresay, yours) are many other people. Lots of other people. Lots and lots of other people. And they鈥檙e all related, one way or another. Or would be, if they鈥檇 married as intended.
Ruby is speaking 鈥渢oday鈥� about her past and the present, while the others鈥� stories are told in the third person by the author. We always know when it鈥檚 Ruby, but my goodness I get my mothers and grand-mothers and great-aunts and not-really-aunts-but-probably-father鈥檚-floozy mixed up! It鈥檚 not that they aren鈥檛 described well. It鈥檚 just that sometimes there鈥檚 so much back story that I start following that thread and losing the main one.
Reading Atkinson is like looking through someone鈥檚 photograph album with them and as they get to a group picture, they point to someone in the back row and say (this is me talking, not Atkinson) 鈥淥h, that鈥檚 Eve! I must tell you about her. She was such a character and my cousin Adam absolutely adored her and would do anything for her. In fact, once when they were in this garden, she found an apple tree and . . . 鈥�
And there鈥檚 a long, drawn-out story that recurs now and then about them and their children who used to play with someone else鈥檚 children and they all grew up and went off to war, except for the poor sickly one who died of diphtheria, that was so sad, and . . . I get so caught up in that story that I completely lose track of what relationship the original person in the photo had to do with Ruby (or her people), that I forget where I was.
But it almost doesn鈥檛 matter. I don鈥檛 remember if she鈥檚 writing about WW1 or WW2, except that the trenches were One and the aerial dogfights were Two, and 鈥渨e鈥� (Ruby鈥檚 family) lost people in both of them, although I couldn鈥檛 tell you who was lost in which one.
War is a major backdrop to some sections. Some boyfriends and would-be fianc茅s march off, never to return. Atkinson reduces the cast numbers by a chap here or there, but she also gives us some unintended pregnancies here or there, so life goes on.
鈥淏unty had great hopes for the war; there was something attractive about the way it took away certainty and created new possibilities. Betty said it was like tossing coins in the air and wondering where they would land - and it made it much more likely that something exciting would happen to Bunty and it didn't really matter whether it was the unbelievably handsome man or a bomb - it would all mean a change in one way or another.鈥�
I have a sneaking suspicion that the author found this to be true of war as well. It would make something happen.
鈥淚n the end, Bunty's war had been a disappointment. She lost something in the war but she didn't find out until it was too late that it was the chance to be somebody else. Somewhere at the back of Bunty's dreams another war would always play - a war in which she manned searchlights and loaded ack-acks, a war in which she was resourceful and beautiful, not to mention plucky and where 'String of Pearls' played endlessly in the de Grey Rooms as a succession of unbelievably handsome officers whirled Bunty off into another life.鈥�
Atkinson did write a novel called , which was perhaps inspired by Bunty鈥檚 dreams, who knows?
This was her first novel, and what a wonderful and convoluted story it is. I love the writing, the descriptions, and the characters 鈥� some stoic, some comic, some quite mad. Not a one of them is boring. I just wish I could keep the generations straight!
An example of her writing that I enjoy:
鈥淪he pushes her hair back from her forehead in a centuries old genetic gesture of suffering. The life of a woman is hard and she'll be damned if anyone is going to rob her of her sainthood.鈥�
Another:
鈥�. . . he was looking at the night sky above him, spread out like an astronomer's map. And then a wave of blackness crept slowly across the sky as somebody rolled up the map."
I just wish there were a cast of characters and a big family tree, neighbours included, for people like me. I'd have given it five stars if I'd had that!
[Read and reviewed Jan 2018. I mention that because 欧宝娱乐 sometimes mixes up the dates.]
December 9, 2014
I really enjoyed this read but am finding it very hard to review without it making me sound like a rambling old biddy. There are so many things I liked about that are running through my head like little soundbites, but I can鈥檛 seem to write anything coherent about it. But I will try.
Ruby Lennox is narrating the story of her life, from the moment of her conception, through childhood, adolescence and into adulthood. Her narration is at times funny, at others sad and moving, but she has a very wry witty voice and is sometimes extremely scathing about other members of her family. I wasn鈥檛 quite 100% sure about the concept of her being able to describe her life from the point of conception, but I went with the flow and really enjoyed it in the end, particularly the way she talked about what was going to happen to members of her family in the future, dropping little hints to me about their fates which kept me glued to the book.
Her story is punctuated by footnotes (in the form of chapters) which go on to describe more of her family history, going right back to her great grandmother Alice, her grandmother Nell and mother Bunty. These footnotes can be a little confusing at first 鈥� they are not told in chronological order and focus on quite a number of characters, but they do help create a vivid picture of a family over the course of the 20th century. It is not until you get to the end of the book that all these footnotes come together with the main story to give you the full picture of the family, long hidden secrets, closet skeletons and all.
The non chronological retelling did take a little getting used to, but once I did, it felt quite natural. After all, how many times has someone said 鈥淒id I ever tell you about your uncle so-so, he died in a car crash?鈥� In reality, we don鈥檛 build up knowledge of our family in chronological order either. It is built up of snippets released to us over time.
I wouldn鈥檛 exactly call them dysfunctional but they are certainly unusual. In each generation it is the mother who is the focal point of the story and, with the exception of Alice, we see them growing up, marrying, having children and each one coming to the realisation that they are not living the life they intended to live. I have to say that I found each woman more likeable as a child and tended to go off them as they grew older and embittered. They each seemed to lose their warmth and turned into cold, bitter women who struggled to show love or, indeed, any real happiness. The question that really burned in my mind was 鈥渨ould Ruby follow the pattern laid down by previous generations, or will she find the contentment in life that the others lacked?鈥�
It is a really cracking, meandering in a good way read about a family and its skeletons in its closets, stuffed full with little scenes of a family history that will stay with me. The one thing that I do want to say, without spoiling the read for anyone else is 鈥� the dogs, the dogs, the dogs. There were a couple of times when I was reading the book and just had to lean over and give my little dog an extra fuss and love.
Ruby Lennox is narrating the story of her life, from the moment of her conception, through childhood, adolescence and into adulthood. Her narration is at times funny, at others sad and moving, but she has a very wry witty voice and is sometimes extremely scathing about other members of her family. I wasn鈥檛 quite 100% sure about the concept of her being able to describe her life from the point of conception, but I went with the flow and really enjoyed it in the end, particularly the way she talked about what was going to happen to members of her family in the future, dropping little hints to me about their fates which kept me glued to the book.
Her story is punctuated by footnotes (in the form of chapters) which go on to describe more of her family history, going right back to her great grandmother Alice, her grandmother Nell and mother Bunty. These footnotes can be a little confusing at first 鈥� they are not told in chronological order and focus on quite a number of characters, but they do help create a vivid picture of a family over the course of the 20th century. It is not until you get to the end of the book that all these footnotes come together with the main story to give you the full picture of the family, long hidden secrets, closet skeletons and all.
The non chronological retelling did take a little getting used to, but once I did, it felt quite natural. After all, how many times has someone said 鈥淒id I ever tell you about your uncle so-so, he died in a car crash?鈥� In reality, we don鈥檛 build up knowledge of our family in chronological order either. It is built up of snippets released to us over time.
I wouldn鈥檛 exactly call them dysfunctional but they are certainly unusual. In each generation it is the mother who is the focal point of the story and, with the exception of Alice, we see them growing up, marrying, having children and each one coming to the realisation that they are not living the life they intended to live. I have to say that I found each woman more likeable as a child and tended to go off them as they grew older and embittered. They each seemed to lose their warmth and turned into cold, bitter women who struggled to show love or, indeed, any real happiness. The question that really burned in my mind was 鈥渨ould Ruby follow the pattern laid down by previous generations, or will she find the contentment in life that the others lacked?鈥�
It is a really cracking, meandering in a good way read about a family and its skeletons in its closets, stuffed full with little scenes of a family history that will stay with me. The one thing that I do want to say, without spoiling the read for anyone else is 鈥� the dogs, the dogs, the dogs. There were a couple of times when I was reading the book and just had to lean over and give my little dog an extra fuss and love.
April 26, 2023
The end had me sobbing. And I realised this is not just one of my all-time favourites, but THE all-time favourite besides The Lord of the Rings. I will have to re-read it more often.
February 22, 2020
A novel that for me started off promisingly, floundered a bit in the middle, before finishing with a flourish. It鈥檚 difficult to translate that to a rating. For most of the book I was thinking in terms of a 3-star rating but the ending pushed it up to a 3.5, which I鈥檝e rounded up to four.
I also found it quite difficult to categorise the book. Basically it鈥檚 a family saga with a fair amount of black humour added in. The narrator is one Ruby Lennox, born in 1952, who provides the first chapter of the book from inside the womb. The other main character is Ruby鈥檚 mother Berenice, known as Bunty, but the book also alternates Ruby and Bunty鈥檚 timeline with flashbacks to earlier generations of their family, mainly though not exclusively featuring the women. The author does this through an unusual technique. A few pages into each chapter of Ruby鈥檚 narration there is a reference to a footnote, which takes you to the story of the earlier generation. Initially I wasn鈥檛 sure how to react to these. Was I meant to read the footnote straight away or wait until the end of the chapter? In the end I chose the latter option and found it worked well enough.
As a family saga, the novel is very much the tale of an unhappy family. The men are mostly either drunkards and/or philanderers. The women are not exactly selfless either. One abandons her children, others resent them. Siblings are cruel to one another etc, etc. It鈥檚 one of those novels with few if any attractive characters. Some of the verbal humour is good, even very good, but the novel also contains some farce/slapstick humour which didn鈥檛 appeal to me.
All in all, a mixed bag, but I really liked the ending, which left me with a favourable impression.
I also found it quite difficult to categorise the book. Basically it鈥檚 a family saga with a fair amount of black humour added in. The narrator is one Ruby Lennox, born in 1952, who provides the first chapter of the book from inside the womb. The other main character is Ruby鈥檚 mother Berenice, known as Bunty, but the book also alternates Ruby and Bunty鈥檚 timeline with flashbacks to earlier generations of their family, mainly though not exclusively featuring the women. The author does this through an unusual technique. A few pages into each chapter of Ruby鈥檚 narration there is a reference to a footnote, which takes you to the story of the earlier generation. Initially I wasn鈥檛 sure how to react to these. Was I meant to read the footnote straight away or wait until the end of the chapter? In the end I chose the latter option and found it worked well enough.
As a family saga, the novel is very much the tale of an unhappy family. The men are mostly either drunkards and/or philanderers. The women are not exactly selfless either. One abandons her children, others resent them. Siblings are cruel to one another etc, etc. It鈥檚 one of those novels with few if any attractive characters. Some of the verbal humour is good, even very good, but the novel also contains some farce/slapstick humour which didn鈥檛 appeal to me.
All in all, a mixed bag, but I really liked the ending, which left me with a favourable impression.
November 21, 2020
Behind the Scenes at the Museum was a magnificently constructed tale of four generations of women in a Yorkshire family spanning the twentieth century as narrated by Ruby Lennox. This glorious book by Kate Atkinson begins with Ruby relating the precise moment of her conception to the ringing of the chimes at midnight on the clock on the mantlepiece belonging to her great-grandmother Alice. Each chapter is followed by a comprehensive footnote or subchapter giving us a behind-the-scenes look at the history of the family and the events we have just witnessed, thus giving one more insight and preventing one from being totally lost. Because there are parts of this book when you just need to trust and hang on.
When I discovered Kate Atkinson several years ago, falling in love with her book Life After Life, I began to read everything she has written, including the wonderful Jackson Brodie series but somehow overlooking her debut novel, Behind the Scenes at the Museum. There is a reason that Kate Atkinson is one of my favorite contemporary British authors and the fact that this fabulous multi-layered book was her first novel, is simply amazing. It is one that I will definitely read again.
"Why does nobody notice how unhappy I am? Why does nobody comment on my bizarre behavior--the recurring bouts of sleepwalking that still erupt from time to time, when I wander the house, indeed very much like a little ghost-child, one that is searching futilely for something it's left behind in the corporeal world. (A toy? A playmate? Its heart desire?) Then there's the inertia--lying lifelessly on my bed for hour after hour, doing nothing and apparently thinking nothing either."
"In the end, it is my belief, words are the only things that construct a world that makes sense."
When I discovered Kate Atkinson several years ago, falling in love with her book Life After Life, I began to read everything she has written, including the wonderful Jackson Brodie series but somehow overlooking her debut novel, Behind the Scenes at the Museum. There is a reason that Kate Atkinson is one of my favorite contemporary British authors and the fact that this fabulous multi-layered book was her first novel, is simply amazing. It is one that I will definitely read again.
"Why does nobody notice how unhappy I am? Why does nobody comment on my bizarre behavior--the recurring bouts of sleepwalking that still erupt from time to time, when I wander the house, indeed very much like a little ghost-child, one that is searching futilely for something it's left behind in the corporeal world. (A toy? A playmate? Its heart desire?) Then there's the inertia--lying lifelessly on my bed for hour after hour, doing nothing and apparently thinking nothing either."
"In the end, it is my belief, words are the only things that construct a world that makes sense."
May 19, 2014
Behind the Scenes at the Museum is really a very good book, marred by one gimmick that frustrates me because it's so unnecessary to the story Kate Atkinson is telling.
For the most part, however, I enjoyed this one immensely. Atkinson has a knack for turns of phrase that are amusing and piercing and unexpected, and I loved these in particular. The story is meandering, and weaves back and forth in time, but it was the sort of meander I greatly enjoy.
Note: The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the recent changes in 欧宝娱乐 policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.
In the meantime, you can read the entire review at
For the most part, however, I enjoyed this one immensely. Atkinson has a knack for turns of phrase that are amusing and piercing and unexpected, and I loved these in particular. The story is meandering, and weaves back and forth in time, but it was the sort of meander I greatly enjoy.
Note: The rest of this review has been withdrawn due to the recent changes in 欧宝娱乐 policy and enforcement. You can read why I came to this decision here.
In the meantime, you can read the entire review at
February 9, 2014
Kate Atkinson鈥檚 first novel won the Whitbread Book of the Year in 1995, beating such heavyweights as Salman Rushdie and his . Behind the Scenes at the Museum us ab ambitious book: a sprawling saga which spans decades of events and covers several generations of characters.
Behind the Scenes at the Museum opens with the birth of its all-seeing narrator, Ruby Lennox, who begins her narration literally from conception (the first chapter begins with Ruby proclaiming "I exist! at the exact moment). The novel consists of 13 chapters, in each of which Ruby describes life of the Lennoxes, a middle-class English family from York, and their life in post-war Britain from 1951 to 1992. Each chapter is followed by a footnote, which consists of events being narrated from another perspective - Ruby's mother, Bunty, Nell, her grandmother, and the great grandmother, Alice. These footnotes - although non-chronological - provide additional information for certain characters' decisions, and explain some of the mysteries concerning missing relatives or family treasures.
With its large cast of characters and extensive timeline, Behind the Scenes at the Museum is also a social history of England in miniature, with the various Lennoxes and their acquaintances standing in for the ordinary people of Britain before, during, and after the War. Although Ruby is a charming and funny narrator, the story she tells is anything but - people make poor choices and suffer the consequences, dreaming of what might have been (such as Ruby's mother, Bunty, who is unhappy in her marriage to George, her father). Personal relationships are bleak and unfulfilling in this novel, and there are many deaths - both of people and animals. It's full of humor, but not in a funny ha-ha sort of way, but funny sad.
Still, it's a first novel and it shows. The amount of characters to keep track of is huge - we've got mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, sisters, brothers, cousins, nieces...as the book progresses it becomes more and more difficult to keep track of them all, which is why a family tree included in each copy would be very helpful. With the introduction of each character the novel lost a bit of its initial momentum - Ruby's enthusiastic "I exist!", a proclamation of the beginning of something important and extraordinary turned into "I exist", a mundane and ordinary existence, filled with unhappiness and lost opportunities, where we're laughing only not to cry. Still, with each new character introduced and another unhappy relationship served on my plate I haven't either laughed or cried - because frankly, my dears, I ceased to give a damn.
Behind the Scenes at the Museum opens with the birth of its all-seeing narrator, Ruby Lennox, who begins her narration literally from conception (the first chapter begins with Ruby proclaiming "I exist! at the exact moment). The novel consists of 13 chapters, in each of which Ruby describes life of the Lennoxes, a middle-class English family from York, and their life in post-war Britain from 1951 to 1992. Each chapter is followed by a footnote, which consists of events being narrated from another perspective - Ruby's mother, Bunty, Nell, her grandmother, and the great grandmother, Alice. These footnotes - although non-chronological - provide additional information for certain characters' decisions, and explain some of the mysteries concerning missing relatives or family treasures.
With its large cast of characters and extensive timeline, Behind the Scenes at the Museum is also a social history of England in miniature, with the various Lennoxes and their acquaintances standing in for the ordinary people of Britain before, during, and after the War. Although Ruby is a charming and funny narrator, the story she tells is anything but - people make poor choices and suffer the consequences, dreaming of what might have been (such as Ruby's mother, Bunty, who is unhappy in her marriage to George, her father). Personal relationships are bleak and unfulfilling in this novel, and there are many deaths - both of people and animals. It's full of humor, but not in a funny ha-ha sort of way, but funny sad.
Still, it's a first novel and it shows. The amount of characters to keep track of is huge - we've got mothers, fathers, aunts, uncles, grandmothers, sisters, brothers, cousins, nieces...as the book progresses it becomes more and more difficult to keep track of them all, which is why a family tree included in each copy would be very helpful. With the introduction of each character the novel lost a bit of its initial momentum - Ruby's enthusiastic "I exist!", a proclamation of the beginning of something important and extraordinary turned into "I exist", a mundane and ordinary existence, filled with unhappiness and lost opportunities, where we're laughing only not to cry. Still, with each new character introduced and another unhappy relationship served on my plate I haven't either laughed or cried - because frankly, my dears, I ceased to give a damn.
Read
March 14, 2018鈥� 袦懈薪褍谢械 鈥� 褑械 褌械, 褖芯 褌懈 谢懈褕邪褦褕 蟹邪 褋芯斜芯褞, 袪褍斜褨, 鈥� 泻邪卸械 胁芯薪邪, 锌芯褋屑褨褏邪褞褔懈褋褜, 褟泻 褉械褨薪泻邪褉薪邪褑褨褟 写邪谢邪泄-谢邪屑懈.
鈥� 袛褍褉薪懈褑褨, 鈥� 泻邪卸褍 褟, 褋褨写邪褞褔懈 褍 褋胁褨泄 锌芯褌褟谐. 鈥� 袦懈薪褍谢械 鈥� 褑械 褌械, 褖芯 褌懈 蟹邪斜懈褉邪褦褕 褨蟹 褋芯斜芯褞.
袩械褉褕械 卸懈谢邪-斜褍谢邪-泄-锌械褉械泻谢邪谢邪, 蟹写邪薪械 褑褜芯谐芯 褉芯泻褍 (胁 锌械褉械泻谢邪写褨 薪邪蟹懈胁邪褌懈屑械褌褜褋褟 "袟邪 谢邪褕褌褍薪泻邪屑懈 胁 屑褍蟹械褩", 胁懈写邪褦 袧邪褕 肖芯褉屑邪褌, 褨屑芯胁褨褉薪芯, 斜褍写械 写械褋褜 锌褨写 褎芯褉褍屑). 笑械 - 锌械褉褕懈泄 褉芯屑邪薪 袣械泄褌 袗褌泻褨薪褋芯薪, 褨 胁芯薪邪 蟹邪 薪褜芯谐芯 芯写褉邪蟹褍 芯褌褉懈屑邪谢邪 Costa Book Awards (褌芯写褨 Whitbread Book Awards, 褍屑芯胁薪芯 泻邪卸褍褔懈, 褌邪泻懈泄 斜褍泻械褉-屑褨薪褍褋-锌芯薪褌懈 写谢褟 斜褨谢褜褕 泻芯屑械褉褑褨泄薪懈褏 泻薪懈卸芯泻).
Elevator pitch: 斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟 谐芯谢芯胁薪芯褩 谐械褉芯褩薪褨 胁褨写 屑芯屑械薪褌褍 蟹邪褔邪褌褌褟 写芯 屑芯屑械薪褌褍, 泻芯谢懈 胁芯薪邪 斜褨谢褜褕-屑械薪褕 蟹薪邪褏芯写懈褌褜 褋芯斜褨 屑褨褋褑械 胁 卸懈褌褌褨, 写械 褩泄 写芯斜褉械. 袟 胁褨写褋褌褍锌邪屑懈 褍 褉芯写懈薪薪械 屑懈薪褍谢械, 斜芯 胁褋褨 屑懈 褋泻谢邪写邪褦屑芯褋褟 蟹 褉芯写懈薪薪芯谐芯 屑懈薪褍谢芯谐芯.
袆 胁械褋褜 斜邪蟹芯胁懈泄 薪邪斜褨褉 袗褌泻褨薪褋芯薪, 褟泻懈泄 泻芯褔褍褦 蟹 褉芯屑邪薪褍 胁 褉芯屑邪薪, 褨 胁卸械 褟泻 褉褨写薪懈泄 (胁褨写 褌芯谐芯, 褖芯 锌褍写懈薪谐 褨蟹 胁邪褉械薪薪褟屑 薪邪蟹懈胁邪褦褌褜褋褟 "褌褉褍锌懈泻 薪械屑芯胁谢褟褌懈", 写芯 邪胁褋褌褉邪谢褨泄褋褜泻懈褏 斜褍写写懈褋褌褨胁 褨 褨屑械薪 锌褨谢芯褌褨胁 薪邪 写蟹械褉泻邪谢褨 胁 斜邪褉褨 "校 袘械褌褌褨"). 袆 胁褋械, 褖芯 褟 薪械 谢褞斜谢褞 胁 袗褌泻褨薪褋芯薪 (褋泻邪卸褨屑芯, 谐褨锌械褉褌褉芯褎芯胁邪薪械 蟹谐褍褖械薪薪褟 胁褨写褌褨薪泻褨胁 褔芯褉薪芯谐芯 胁 芯斜褉邪蟹褨 屑邪褌械褉褨胁), 褨 褦 胁褋械, 褖芯 谢褞斜谢褞 - 芯斜'褦屑薪褨 谐械褉芯褩 写褉褍谐芯谐芯 锌谢邪薪褍, 薪械泄屑芯胁褨褉薪芯 泻褉褍褌褨 芯锌懈褋懈 胁械谢懈泻懈褏 褉芯写懈薪 褨 褩褏薪褜芯褩 写懈薪邪屑褨泻懈, 泻芯谢懈 胁芯薪懈 褉芯蟹胁懈胁邪褞褌褜褋褟 褔械褉械蟹 写械褋褟褌懈谢褨褌褌褟 (锌芯-屑芯褦屑褍, 芯写薪褨 蟹 薪邪泄泻褉褍褌褨褕懈褏 褍 褋褍褔邪褋薪褨泄 邪薪谐谢褨泄褋褜泻褨泄 谢褨褌械褉邪褌褍褉褑褨). 袉 褖械 褖芯褋褜 薪械胁谢芯胁薪械, 邪谢械 锌褉懈褋褍褌薪褦 褌械卸 褨蟹 褉芯屑邪薪褍 胁 褉芯屑邪薪: 泻褍屑褍谢褟褌懈胁薪械 胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟, 褖芯 褌械泻褋褌 斜褨谢褜褕懈泄, 薪褨卸 褋褍屑邪 芯泻褉械屑懈褏 褔邪褋褌懈薪. 小械斜褌芯 胁械褋褜 褌械泻褋褌 蟹写邪褦褌褜褋褟, 褖芯 胁芯薪芯 胁褋械 写芯胁芯谢褨 薪械芯斜芯胁'褟蟹泻芯胁械, 邪谢械 褟泻懈泄褋褜 褎褨薪邪谢褜薪懈泄 斜邪薪褌懈泻 锌褉芯褋褌芯 胁懈斜懈胁邪褦 胁褋械 锌芯胁褨褌褉褟 蟹 谢械谐械薪褨胁, 褨 褋懈写懈褕 胁薪芯褔褨, 褟泻 写械斜褨谢 褦写械薪, 褉懈写邪褦褕 胁褨写 胁写褟褔薪芯褋褌褨 写芯 胁褋褜芯谐芯 褋胁芯谐芯 褉芯写懈薪薪芯谐芯 屑懈薪褍谢芯谐芯, 写芯 胁褋褨褏 蟹薪邪薪懈褏 褨 薪械蟹薪邪薪懈褏, 蟹褉懈屑懈褏 褨 薪械蟹褉懈屑懈褏 谢褞写械泄, 褟泻褨 斜褍谢懈 蟹 褌芯斜芯褞 褔懈 写芯 褌械斜械, 褨 蟹 写褨邪谢芯谐褍 蟹 褟泻懈屑懈 褋泻谢邪写邪褦褌褜褋褟 泻芯卸械薪 褨蟹 薪邪褋.
袘芯薪褍褋芯屑: 褑械泄 褉芯屑邪薪 屑褨褋褌懈褌褜 薪邪泄泻褉邪褖褍 褋褑械薪褍 胁械褋褨谢谢褟 (褖芯 锌械褉械褌褨泻邪褦 褍 胁械谢懈泻械 锌芯斜芯褩褖械 褨 蟹邪泻褨薪褔褍褦褌褜褋褟 褌褉褍锌芯屑), 褟泻褍 褟 胁蟹邪谐邪谢褨 斜邪褔懈谢邪 胁 谢褨褌械褉邪褌褍褉褨 :)
鈥� 袛褍褉薪懈褑褨, 鈥� 泻邪卸褍 褟, 褋褨写邪褞褔懈 褍 褋胁褨泄 锌芯褌褟谐. 鈥� 袦懈薪褍谢械 鈥� 褑械 褌械, 褖芯 褌懈 蟹邪斜懈褉邪褦褕 褨蟹 褋芯斜芯褞.
袩械褉褕械 卸懈谢邪-斜褍谢邪-泄-锌械褉械泻谢邪谢邪, 蟹写邪薪械 褑褜芯谐芯 褉芯泻褍 (胁 锌械褉械泻谢邪写褨 薪邪蟹懈胁邪褌懈屑械褌褜褋褟 "袟邪 谢邪褕褌褍薪泻邪屑懈 胁 屑褍蟹械褩", 胁懈写邪褦 袧邪褕 肖芯褉屑邪褌, 褨屑芯胁褨褉薪芯, 斜褍写械 写械褋褜 锌褨写 褎芯褉褍屑). 笑械 - 锌械褉褕懈泄 褉芯屑邪薪 袣械泄褌 袗褌泻褨薪褋芯薪, 褨 胁芯薪邪 蟹邪 薪褜芯谐芯 芯写褉邪蟹褍 芯褌褉懈屑邪谢邪 Costa Book Awards (褌芯写褨 Whitbread Book Awards, 褍屑芯胁薪芯 泻邪卸褍褔懈, 褌邪泻懈泄 斜褍泻械褉-屑褨薪褍褋-锌芯薪褌懈 写谢褟 斜褨谢褜褕 泻芯屑械褉褑褨泄薪懈褏 泻薪懈卸芯泻).
Elevator pitch: 斜褨芯谐褉邪褎褨褟 谐芯谢芯胁薪芯褩 谐械褉芯褩薪褨 胁褨写 屑芯屑械薪褌褍 蟹邪褔邪褌褌褟 写芯 屑芯屑械薪褌褍, 泻芯谢懈 胁芯薪邪 斜褨谢褜褕-屑械薪褕 蟹薪邪褏芯写懈褌褜 褋芯斜褨 屑褨褋褑械 胁 卸懈褌褌褨, 写械 褩泄 写芯斜褉械. 袟 胁褨写褋褌褍锌邪屑懈 褍 褉芯写懈薪薪械 屑懈薪褍谢械, 斜芯 胁褋褨 屑懈 褋泻谢邪写邪褦屑芯褋褟 蟹 褉芯写懈薪薪芯谐芯 屑懈薪褍谢芯谐芯.
袆 胁械褋褜 斜邪蟹芯胁懈泄 薪邪斜褨褉 袗褌泻褨薪褋芯薪, 褟泻懈泄 泻芯褔褍褦 蟹 褉芯屑邪薪褍 胁 褉芯屑邪薪, 褨 胁卸械 褟泻 褉褨写薪懈泄 (胁褨写 褌芯谐芯, 褖芯 锌褍写懈薪谐 褨蟹 胁邪褉械薪薪褟屑 薪邪蟹懈胁邪褦褌褜褋褟 "褌褉褍锌懈泻 薪械屑芯胁谢褟褌懈", 写芯 邪胁褋褌褉邪谢褨泄褋褜泻懈褏 斜褍写写懈褋褌褨胁 褨 褨屑械薪 锌褨谢芯褌褨胁 薪邪 写蟹械褉泻邪谢褨 胁 斜邪褉褨 "校 袘械褌褌褨"). 袆 胁褋械, 褖芯 褟 薪械 谢褞斜谢褞 胁 袗褌泻褨薪褋芯薪 (褋泻邪卸褨屑芯, 谐褨锌械褉褌褉芯褎芯胁邪薪械 蟹谐褍褖械薪薪褟 胁褨写褌褨薪泻褨胁 褔芯褉薪芯谐芯 胁 芯斜褉邪蟹褨 屑邪褌械褉褨胁), 褨 褦 胁褋械, 褖芯 谢褞斜谢褞 - 芯斜'褦屑薪褨 谐械褉芯褩 写褉褍谐芯谐芯 锌谢邪薪褍, 薪械泄屑芯胁褨褉薪芯 泻褉褍褌褨 芯锌懈褋懈 胁械谢懈泻懈褏 褉芯写懈薪 褨 褩褏薪褜芯褩 写懈薪邪屑褨泻懈, 泻芯谢懈 胁芯薪懈 褉芯蟹胁懈胁邪褞褌褜褋褟 褔械褉械蟹 写械褋褟褌懈谢褨褌褌褟 (锌芯-屑芯褦屑褍, 芯写薪褨 蟹 薪邪泄泻褉褍褌褨褕懈褏 褍 褋褍褔邪褋薪褨泄 邪薪谐谢褨泄褋褜泻褨泄 谢褨褌械褉邪褌褍褉褑褨). 袉 褖械 褖芯褋褜 薪械胁谢芯胁薪械, 邪谢械 锌褉懈褋褍褌薪褦 褌械卸 褨蟹 褉芯屑邪薪褍 胁 褉芯屑邪薪: 泻褍屑褍谢褟褌懈胁薪械 胁褨写褔褍褌褌褟, 褖芯 褌械泻褋褌 斜褨谢褜褕懈泄, 薪褨卸 褋褍屑邪 芯泻褉械屑懈褏 褔邪褋褌懈薪. 小械斜褌芯 胁械褋褜 褌械泻褋褌 蟹写邪褦褌褜褋褟, 褖芯 胁芯薪芯 胁褋械 写芯胁芯谢褨 薪械芯斜芯胁'褟蟹泻芯胁械, 邪谢械 褟泻懈泄褋褜 褎褨薪邪谢褜薪懈泄 斜邪薪褌懈泻 锌褉芯褋褌芯 胁懈斜懈胁邪褦 胁褋械 锌芯胁褨褌褉褟 蟹 谢械谐械薪褨胁, 褨 褋懈写懈褕 胁薪芯褔褨, 褟泻 写械斜褨谢 褦写械薪, 褉懈写邪褦褕 胁褨写 胁写褟褔薪芯褋褌褨 写芯 胁褋褜芯谐芯 褋胁芯谐芯 褉芯写懈薪薪芯谐芯 屑懈薪褍谢芯谐芯, 写芯 胁褋褨褏 蟹薪邪薪懈褏 褨 薪械蟹薪邪薪懈褏, 蟹褉懈屑懈褏 褨 薪械蟹褉懈屑懈褏 谢褞写械泄, 褟泻褨 斜褍谢懈 蟹 褌芯斜芯褞 褔懈 写芯 褌械斜械, 褨 蟹 写褨邪谢芯谐褍 蟹 褟泻懈屑懈 褋泻谢邪写邪褦褌褜褋褟 泻芯卸械薪 褨蟹 薪邪褋.
袘芯薪褍褋芯屑: 褑械泄 褉芯屑邪薪 屑褨褋褌懈褌褜 薪邪泄泻褉邪褖褍 褋褑械薪褍 胁械褋褨谢谢褟 (褖芯 锌械褉械褌褨泻邪褦 褍 胁械谢懈泻械 锌芯斜芯褩褖械 褨 蟹邪泻褨薪褔褍褦褌褜褋褟 褌褉褍锌芯屑), 褟泻褍 褟 胁蟹邪谐邪谢褨 斜邪褔懈谢邪 胁 谢褨褌械褉邪褌褍褉褨 :)
December 5, 2014
Ruby Lennox begins narrating her life at the moment of conception, and from there takes us on a whirlwind tour of the twentieth century as seen through the eyes of an English girl determined to learn about her family and its secrets.
This was one of the most intriguing books I have ever read....I love Kate Atkinson, but this is 6*
This was one of the most intriguing books I have ever read....I love Kate Atkinson, but this is 6*
June 25, 2012
My only experience of Kate Atkinson's writing until now has been three of the four novels in her Jackson Brodie series, which starts with . Quirky is the obvious adjective to describe Atkinson's writing. It has lots of dry humour and sardonic wit, intricate plotting and random connections and coincidences deliberately used to advance the narrative. There's a certain flippancy in the tone which brings into sharp relief the often very serious themes with which Atkinson deals.
This is not a mystery novel, although it does have a mystery element. It's the story of Ruby Lennox, commencing with her conception and birth, which Ruby narrates*. I really love Ruby, who is smart, funny and insightful. Part of Ruby's charm, particularly when she is small, is her adult and very knowing voice. However, this is not just Ruby's story. At the end of each chapter dealing with Ruby's life is another chapter - a "footnote" - which deals with episodes in the life of Ruby's mother Bunty, her grandmother Nell and her great-grandmother Alice. The novel becomes a tale of dysfunctional families, of women who make poor choices when they marry and of difficult relationships between mothers and daughters. In the inter-linking of the stories of these women and the shifts backwards and forwards in time, the meaning of the title becomes clear. The "footnotes" explain things which the characters don't know about their past: the reason for a particular expression on the face of Ruby's great-grandmother in a family portrait, where an heirloom locket comes from, where an ancestor who disappeared actually went to. These are the mysteries which exist in all families. In addition to being a family history, there's also a sense in which this novel is a social history of 20th century England and in particular of the experiences of ordinary people during World War I and World War II.
Although the tone of the novel is generally light-hearted because of the way Ruby tells her story, most of the events it narrates are extremely sad. There are lots of deaths - including deaths of children and animals. The relationships between wives and husbands and between parents and children are far from ideal and very few of the characters lead happy or fulfilled lives. But for all that, this is a book which made me laugh a lot. It's probably one of the funniest sad books I've ever read.
This was Atkinson's first novel and it shows. I see it as having two major and one minor weakness. The first of the major weaknesses is that it's very difficult to keep track of all of the characters in each generation. There's not just Ruby, her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother to keep track of; Ruby's sisters, her aunts, uncles, cousins, and the sisters and brothers of her grandmother all make an appearance. A list of characters at the front would have saved me from confusion. The second major weakness is that the narrative lost momentum towards the end and took too long to be resolved. A minor weakness is that Ruby's behaviour as a child sometimes was not always consistent with her chronological age and her POV intruded into a "footnote" where it didn't belong.
Overall, this was a good read and I enjoyed sharing the reading experience with my friend Jemidar. Funny, sad, moving and poignant, the novel has lots going for it - notwithstanding its flaws - and deserves a low four stars. However, it's not a novel for everyone. Reading the first chapter will confirm whether or not Atkinson's style appeals.
*An allusion to : Atkinson acknowledges this by having one of the characters read excerpts of the novel to her sister.
September 14, 2011
Is this really the same Kate Atkinson that wrote the so-so mystery novel, Case Histories?? What happened there? This was fan-freaking-tastic. Crazy family secrets, history, motherhood, war...I loved it.
Read
June 21, 2020Patricia embraces me on the station platform. 'The past is what you leave behind in life, Ruby,' she says with the smile of a reincarnated lama. 'Nonsense, Patricia,' I tell her as I climb aboard my train. 'The past's what you take with you'. (p.381)
The past is not quite a constant concern, but it's hand keeps as tight a grip on the present as it can in this homage to, or reworking of, Lawrence Sterne's .
The narrator here though is less fond of digressions than her original, and unlike him seems to keep her promise on delivering promised chapters on various topics (these called "footnotes" in this book, if not on noses, though there is one on a button.
But like the original, the narrator begins with conception with complete consciousness, the change of gender causes a very different view point - into a female world rather than the male world of Tristram Shandy. Both though are completely shandy.
The narrator in this case is Ruby Lennox going up in an old house in central York with a pet shop on the ground floor, the narrative starts in the 1950s but in the footnote chapters leaps further back to the youth of the mother and grandmother and great grandmother and their lives, lived mostly in Yorkshire. Ruby is conscious of ghosts in the house, but the reader may swiftly feel that these are not ghosts of York's varied and lengthy history but family, personal ghosts, who the Lennoxs may carry with themselves where-soever they may go, yea even if as far off as Whitby. Anyroad us non-Yorkshire folk need not be too frightened, the use of topolect is pretty minimal.
It is a fairly fast, family saga, lacking though, it is true, sheep or cows and other animal saga favourites. It suffers slightly from the author's desire to over obviously tie up loose ends and connect every lost child with its mother - but then it was a first novel. Moderately fun, though with usual familial grimness, but then happy families is, as we are reminded in this novel, a card game not a realistic expectation from life.
The past is not quite a constant concern, but it's hand keeps as tight a grip on the present as it can in this homage to, or reworking of, Lawrence Sterne's .
The narrator here though is less fond of digressions than her original, and unlike him seems to keep her promise on delivering promised chapters on various topics (these called "footnotes" in this book, if not on noses, though there is one on a button.
But like the original, the narrator begins with conception with complete consciousness, the change of gender causes a very different view point - into a female world rather than the male world of Tristram Shandy. Both though are completely shandy.
The narrator in this case is Ruby Lennox going up in an old house in central York with a pet shop on the ground floor, the narrative starts in the 1950s but in the footnote chapters leaps further back to the youth of the mother and grandmother and great grandmother and their lives, lived mostly in Yorkshire. Ruby is conscious of ghosts in the house, but the reader may swiftly feel that these are not ghosts of York's varied and lengthy history but family, personal ghosts, who the Lennoxs may carry with themselves where-soever they may go, yea even if as far off as Whitby. Anyroad us non-Yorkshire folk need not be too frightened, the use of topolect is pretty minimal.
It is a fairly fast, family saga, lacking though, it is true, sheep or cows and other animal saga favourites. It suffers slightly from the author's desire to over obviously tie up loose ends and connect every lost child with its mother - but then it was a first novel. Moderately fun, though with usual familial grimness, but then happy families is, as we are reminded in this novel, a card game not a realistic expectation from life.
July 19, 2016
Kate Atkinson has written a multigenerational story about a dysfunctional family. It starts with the conception of the narrator, Ruby Lennox, in York in 1952. Her mother is irritable and unhappy, her father is a philanderer, and her sisters are not very likable. Chapters with Ruby's story moving forward alternate with flashback chapters filling us in on the family history, going back to Ruby's great-grandmother. It's a family tale of loss, lack of fulfillment, and unhappiness. However, Atkinson's ironic sense of humor and Ruby's upbeat personality prevent the story from being a dark book.
Family secrets are foreshadowed, and slowly revealed. One of the most heartbreaking secrets comes close to the end of the book. It's a very complex book with an elaborate plot and many interconnections. The further I read into the book, the more I liked it. The chapters on World Wars I and II were especially poignant. "Behind the Scenes at the Museum" is very sophisticated for a first novel, and the author won the Whitbread Award. Atkinson's great gift is the ability to see the comic in tragic situations.
Family secrets are foreshadowed, and slowly revealed. One of the most heartbreaking secrets comes close to the end of the book. It's a very complex book with an elaborate plot and many interconnections. The further I read into the book, the more I liked it. The chapters on World Wars I and II were especially poignant. "Behind the Scenes at the Museum" is very sophisticated for a first novel, and the author won the Whitbread Award. Atkinson's great gift is the ability to see the comic in tragic situations.
December 16, 2015
This book and I had a love/hate relationship . On one hand, I found the writing to be so beautiful and I was very entertained by Ruby鈥檚 story. The thing that sent this book into 3 star territory was the footnotes. The footnotes were half the book and contained side stories of other people in Ruby鈥檚 family, mostly her mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. While they could be entertaining, many of them could have used with harsh editing and a few didn鈥檛 need to be there at all. I was always waiting to get back to Ruby鈥檚 story while I was reading the footnotes. Also, there were so many characters in this book that a family tree would have been very useful as it was confusing to keep them all straight in my head. As the book progressed and Ruby got older, the book got more enjoyable to me even though her life got more dismal. The family didn鈥檛 always seem to have much love for one another and the tragedies the family endured were sometimes told in a flippant manner. I am half in love with this book and half annoyed with it.
March 17, 2020
Please know I don't haul the one star out lightly. I have read two other books by this author and enjoyed them, but main protagonist Ruby Lennox narrating her life from conception onwards and I just didn't work out.
欧宝娱乐 review published 17/03/20
欧宝娱乐 review published 17/03/20
October 17, 2020
It's another 20th-century English family saga in the book-club fiction bracket - so if you've read much of this sort of thing before, it won't feel necessary or important. You know how it'll go: the Victorian and Edwardian deaths from disease, the fates of characters in the two World Wars, the family secrets, the adoptions, the emigrations, the inevitable dodgy uncle, the textures and zeitgeist-driven behaviour of the 1950s and 60s. Traits and patterns recur in a way that continually teeters between realistic family psychology and something too neat. Characters are a little bit psychic and feel something when close relatives die many miles away; premonitions and mediums are right, as they usually are in popular fiction. You, the reader, may not be psychic, but your predictions based on one vague line - that 'I bet he's going to be gay' or 'she's pregnant, isn't she?', or 'this sounds like there was [family secret that's finally made clear over 200 pages later]' - will all be correct too, because the coding and hints are totally on-brand for this kind of novel.
But maybe you want something to read that's less hard work because it's so familiar; or you know York well and you'd like to read one of the few novels with a really detailed setting there; or you actually haven't read lots of British novels like this already and are interested in them. And as the family is upper-working/lower-middle class it might be a change from the stories about the gentry which Anglophiles often discover first. I find books like this about most other countries fascinating, even whilst it can feel parochial to be reading yet another from the UK, or monotonous if it's one from the US.
Behind the Scenes at the Museum had stuck with me as unfinished business from must-read book lists of the early 00s. (Among others, it was on the list of 2003, and - I was surprised to notice, only after I finished the book yesterday, also on the Guardian 1000 list.) I'm pretty sure I used to have a paper copy circa 15 years ago, and I always had a grudge against the book for not actually being set behind the scenes of a museum. Imagine something like a David Lodge campus novel but about curators, and marginally twee-er. That's what I wanted to read, and what I initially thought I would get when I saw the title. (Though York - like Atkinson's later home of Edinburgh - is a whole city-centre like a museum, and the book is about ordinary lives of locals behind that museum fa莽ade, locals who ran a shop.) My impression, back then, from the first few pages was that the narrator grated on me, the book also wasn't as much fun as the cover looked. Sometimes I miss 90s collage covers!
When I read Ali Smith's The Accidental, the voice reminded me of this, and I found myself thinking about The Accidental again as I re-started Museum. (Both are Whitbread winners, incidentally - the prize now known as the Costa.) But it also seems so very typical of bookclub fiction - and of 90s litfic, with its whimsical narrative that begins at the moment of the protagonist's conception, as if she can see into her mother's mind and body. (Like Look Who's Talking (1990)?) But soon enough everything that this mysteriously omniscient narrator had to say about other people made the book interesting way beyond herself.
It's also weighted with age. When I first tried to read this in the first half of the 00s - and certainly when it was first published (1995) - I thought of people born in the 1950s (though mostly the later part of the decade) as relatively youthful. They were still exciting, quite new entertainers in fields like TV and literature: like Stephen Fry (b.1957) of whom I was a huge fan as a teenager. Stephen Fry is over sixty now! Never mind the protagonist of this (b. 1952): she's nearly seventy - a proper old lady. And they're Boomers. "Ewww!" says the younger internet, "white Boomers".
In 1995 Ruby would have been 43. So there's an eerie cyclical feeling about reading this now in my own early 40s, even whilst it merely looks the ultimate in generic and normie for someone like me to read a Kate Atkinson book. But generic can be a useful thing in a book sometimes. I read it when I wanted a relatively undemanding book whilst my attention was focused on other things (though that is a momentary triumph in itself, as there was once a time when I put the book aside after a few pages because it was too much when I was really quite ill). However, its being more enjoyable than I expected, plus its being important to me actually to finish it because of the history with it, meant it ended up getting read when I should have been doing other stuff鈥�
Although it feels like it doesn't matter because it's one of many similar stories, maybe it sort-of does, as one of the examples of this sort of novel whose reputation is likely to survive longer into posterity - because of those lists and because it's become an A-Level set text. (Patricia, the narrator's sister, reads Tristram Shandy for A-level English in the 1960s, which can't help make you think about the different standards over time, or even in different schools at the same time, due to choice of texts*.) And it is well-written if there's room for tropes in your idea of 'well-written', and wittier and more sarcastic than this sort of thing often is. If, in the second half of the 21st century, there are equivalents of the current fans of vintage middlebrow and Persephone Books, Behind the Scenes at the Museum is the sort of thing they might be reading. A lot of it was fun (not so much many of the 1950s sections; my favourites were the pre-First World War sections, and the last chapters once Ruby had left home and her terrible mother - and the two farcical set-tos a little over half way through) and I barrelled through it rarely looking at the numbering, which is unusual for me.
It's also a lot like Life After Life. A lot. Life After Life now seems like a remix of Museum. The different circumstances of branches of the family in the early 20th century. Reused names. (I feel justified in not liking Teddy as much as everyone else did in LAL now I know who he was named after.) Second World War fighter pilots. Short episodes. A suicide by town gas not long after the end of the war. The idea of reincarnation introduced at the end of Museum. (I should probably put my own rating rating for LAL up to 4 as I remember much of it fondly, and it is, like this, a low 4, in that I know it's not as clever as a lot of the stuff GR friends read, but it was enjoyable and likeable and I connected with it, more than with this one. Now I think I appreciate Kate Atkinson more for what she is doing, rather than feeling like I need to apologise / remind some GR friends they wouldn't like her stuff even if I do sometimes.)
And beyond this old cover, which I'm keeping as my shelved edition on GR, Museum is a book of its time, often quite subtly. Pretty much half of each chapter (the historical half dealing with anytime from the 1870s/1880s to not long before Ruby was born) is called a 'footnote'. This was when massive footnotes, simultaneously playful and serious, were just becoming the in thing, the most famous example of course being Infinite Jest (1996); I'm kind of impressed that Museum was earlier on this. A gay character's partner, whom he lives with, is still referred to as a 'lover'. ('Partner' was not uncommon by this time though might have still sounded conspicuously right-on.)
There's a sort of unexamined background essentialism about nationality that in current literary fiction would get hauled over the coals. This is on a family holiday when the narrator is a teenager:
The occupants of the farm, our hosts for the next two weeks, are called von Leibnitz, which doesn鈥檛 seem like a very Scottish name to me. Wouldn鈥檛 we have done better to have chosen a Farm from the Farmhouse Brochure that was run by a McAllister, a Macbeth, a McCormack, a McDade, a McEwan, a McFadden 鈥� even a McLeibnitz 鈥� in fact anyone whose name began with a 鈥榤ac鈥� rather than a 鈥榲on鈥�?
Whilst my family wasn't German, something rather similar could have been said of us, but I would have felt the same myself at her age; it merely feels like a mild frustration at clothes not matching or something. Meanwhile, in something that *does* piss me off, the narrator kept calling their destination "Och-na-cock-a-leekie". (As I'd been thinking a couple of days earlier when looking at GR pages for some crime novels, I do wish it would finally become taboo for people to moan about 'all the foreign names' in reviews for translated books. They don't even have to read them aloud FFS.) This is all from the same character who who clearly disapproves of Uncle Clifford's rant about black people. And you could argue that she has the name thing turned back on herself later, even further than keeping being told that Lennox is a Scottish name when her parents are adamant they're Yorkshire folk - the characters are presumably named after Mary Lennox in the Yorkshire-set The Secret Garden.
Meanwhile, the wonderful 90s lack of essentialism about gender, especially for girls, was very much in evidence here in the way that childhoods from the 1950s are related. Here were sisters playing games that include the Lone Ranger as well as ponies, and there are games and metaphors to do with space, and one wants to be a vet. And at no point, as is the case in recent years anyone saying (as if it was all new and today's kids didn't have grandmothers who were like that), 'ooh isn't it amazing and special that girls are interested in space and science and we have to make a big fuss'. It is just bloody well stuff that they like, and they get on with it, and nobody either obstructs or coddles to imply it's unusual. For quite a while I thought that Patricia, Ruby's elder sister, was like a composite of all the best bits of my mum and myself without the bad sides - but she changes later in the book. Though I wondered how much of that change was specific to the 1960s environment. There may well have been families where both mother and daughter were this as much on trend with their behaviour as the Lennoxes were, but it did feel a bit forced at times.
Strangely contemporary - because of social media controversies in recent years - was the hilarious, and beautifully paced, episode about a wedding during the World Cup. Back then it was only a family row, now the whole world and their in-laws can weigh in on the matter.
This is one of those books where it depends so much what you expect from it. It would be easy to be disappointed by it, as it is just another English family saga with a mildly literary structure, but approach it with low expectations on that basis and you could be pleasantly surprised. Particularly recommended for people who loved Life After Life and want more of the same beyond its actual sequel.
* Among other books Patricia reads as a teenager are In Search of Lost Time, On the Road and Humphry Clinker, and Ruby reads three Walter Scott novels, Rob Roy, Waverley and The Heart of Midlothian. Not quite the Rory Gilmore reading list (I've never seen that show once, just know it by repute) but a fair bit to live up to.
But maybe you want something to read that's less hard work because it's so familiar; or you know York well and you'd like to read one of the few novels with a really detailed setting there; or you actually haven't read lots of British novels like this already and are interested in them. And as the family is upper-working/lower-middle class it might be a change from the stories about the gentry which Anglophiles often discover first. I find books like this about most other countries fascinating, even whilst it can feel parochial to be reading yet another from the UK, or monotonous if it's one from the US.
Behind the Scenes at the Museum had stuck with me as unfinished business from must-read book lists of the early 00s. (Among others, it was on the list of 2003, and - I was surprised to notice, only after I finished the book yesterday, also on the Guardian 1000 list.) I'm pretty sure I used to have a paper copy circa 15 years ago, and I always had a grudge against the book for not actually being set behind the scenes of a museum. Imagine something like a David Lodge campus novel but about curators, and marginally twee-er. That's what I wanted to read, and what I initially thought I would get when I saw the title. (Though York - like Atkinson's later home of Edinburgh - is a whole city-centre like a museum, and the book is about ordinary lives of locals behind that museum fa莽ade, locals who ran a shop.) My impression, back then, from the first few pages was that the narrator grated on me, the book also wasn't as much fun as the cover looked. Sometimes I miss 90s collage covers!
When I read Ali Smith's The Accidental, the voice reminded me of this, and I found myself thinking about The Accidental again as I re-started Museum. (Both are Whitbread winners, incidentally - the prize now known as the Costa.) But it also seems so very typical of bookclub fiction - and of 90s litfic, with its whimsical narrative that begins at the moment of the protagonist's conception, as if she can see into her mother's mind and body. (Like Look Who's Talking (1990)?) But soon enough everything that this mysteriously omniscient narrator had to say about other people made the book interesting way beyond herself.
It's also weighted with age. When I first tried to read this in the first half of the 00s - and certainly when it was first published (1995) - I thought of people born in the 1950s (though mostly the later part of the decade) as relatively youthful. They were still exciting, quite new entertainers in fields like TV and literature: like Stephen Fry (b.1957) of whom I was a huge fan as a teenager. Stephen Fry is over sixty now! Never mind the protagonist of this (b. 1952): she's nearly seventy - a proper old lady. And they're Boomers. "Ewww!" says the younger internet, "white Boomers".
In 1995 Ruby would have been 43. So there's an eerie cyclical feeling about reading this now in my own early 40s, even whilst it merely looks the ultimate in generic and normie for someone like me to read a Kate Atkinson book. But generic can be a useful thing in a book sometimes. I read it when I wanted a relatively undemanding book whilst my attention was focused on other things (though that is a momentary triumph in itself, as there was once a time when I put the book aside after a few pages because it was too much when I was really quite ill). However, its being more enjoyable than I expected, plus its being important to me actually to finish it because of the history with it, meant it ended up getting read when I should have been doing other stuff鈥�
Although it feels like it doesn't matter because it's one of many similar stories, maybe it sort-of does, as one of the examples of this sort of novel whose reputation is likely to survive longer into posterity - because of those lists and because it's become an A-Level set text. (Patricia, the narrator's sister, reads Tristram Shandy for A-level English in the 1960s, which can't help make you think about the different standards over time, or even in different schools at the same time, due to choice of texts*.) And it is well-written if there's room for tropes in your idea of 'well-written', and wittier and more sarcastic than this sort of thing often is. If, in the second half of the 21st century, there are equivalents of the current fans of vintage middlebrow and Persephone Books, Behind the Scenes at the Museum is the sort of thing they might be reading. A lot of it was fun (not so much many of the 1950s sections; my favourites were the pre-First World War sections, and the last chapters once Ruby had left home and her terrible mother - and the two farcical set-tos a little over half way through) and I barrelled through it rarely looking at the numbering, which is unusual for me.
It's also a lot like Life After Life. A lot. Life After Life now seems like a remix of Museum. The different circumstances of branches of the family in the early 20th century. Reused names. (I feel justified in not liking Teddy as much as everyone else did in LAL now I know who he was named after.) Second World War fighter pilots. Short episodes. A suicide by town gas not long after the end of the war. The idea of reincarnation introduced at the end of Museum. (I should probably put my own rating rating for LAL up to 4 as I remember much of it fondly, and it is, like this, a low 4, in that I know it's not as clever as a lot of the stuff GR friends read, but it was enjoyable and likeable and I connected with it, more than with this one. Now I think I appreciate Kate Atkinson more for what she is doing, rather than feeling like I need to apologise / remind some GR friends they wouldn't like her stuff even if I do sometimes.)
And beyond this old cover, which I'm keeping as my shelved edition on GR, Museum is a book of its time, often quite subtly. Pretty much half of each chapter (the historical half dealing with anytime from the 1870s/1880s to not long before Ruby was born) is called a 'footnote'. This was when massive footnotes, simultaneously playful and serious, were just becoming the in thing, the most famous example of course being Infinite Jest (1996); I'm kind of impressed that Museum was earlier on this. A gay character's partner, whom he lives with, is still referred to as a 'lover'. ('Partner' was not uncommon by this time though might have still sounded conspicuously right-on.)
There's a sort of unexamined background essentialism about nationality that in current literary fiction would get hauled over the coals. This is on a family holiday when the narrator is a teenager:
The occupants of the farm, our hosts for the next two weeks, are called von Leibnitz, which doesn鈥檛 seem like a very Scottish name to me. Wouldn鈥檛 we have done better to have chosen a Farm from the Farmhouse Brochure that was run by a McAllister, a Macbeth, a McCormack, a McDade, a McEwan, a McFadden 鈥� even a McLeibnitz 鈥� in fact anyone whose name began with a 鈥榤ac鈥� rather than a 鈥榲on鈥�?
Whilst my family wasn't German, something rather similar could have been said of us, but I would have felt the same myself at her age; it merely feels like a mild frustration at clothes not matching or something. Meanwhile, in something that *does* piss me off, the narrator kept calling their destination "Och-na-cock-a-leekie". (As I'd been thinking a couple of days earlier when looking at GR pages for some crime novels, I do wish it would finally become taboo for people to moan about 'all the foreign names' in reviews for translated books. They don't even have to read them aloud FFS.) This is all from the same character who who clearly disapproves of Uncle Clifford's rant about black people. And you could argue that she has the name thing turned back on herself later, even further than keeping being told that Lennox is a Scottish name when her parents are adamant they're Yorkshire folk - the characters are presumably named after Mary Lennox in the Yorkshire-set The Secret Garden.
Meanwhile, the wonderful 90s lack of essentialism about gender, especially for girls, was very much in evidence here in the way that childhoods from the 1950s are related. Here were sisters playing games that include the Lone Ranger as well as ponies, and there are games and metaphors to do with space, and one wants to be a vet. And at no point, as is the case in recent years anyone saying (as if it was all new and today's kids didn't have grandmothers who were like that), 'ooh isn't it amazing and special that girls are interested in space and science and we have to make a big fuss'. It is just bloody well stuff that they like, and they get on with it, and nobody either obstructs or coddles to imply it's unusual. For quite a while I thought that Patricia, Ruby's elder sister, was like a composite of all the best bits of my mum and myself without the bad sides - but she changes later in the book. Though I wondered how much of that change was specific to the 1960s environment. There may well have been families where both mother and daughter were this as much on trend with their behaviour as the Lennoxes were, but it did feel a bit forced at times.
Strangely contemporary - because of social media controversies in recent years - was the hilarious, and beautifully paced, episode about a wedding during the World Cup. Back then it was only a family row, now the whole world and their in-laws can weigh in on the matter.
This is one of those books where it depends so much what you expect from it. It would be easy to be disappointed by it, as it is just another English family saga with a mildly literary structure, but approach it with low expectations on that basis and you could be pleasantly surprised. Particularly recommended for people who loved Life After Life and want more of the same beyond its actual sequel.
* Among other books Patricia reads as a teenager are In Search of Lost Time, On the Road and Humphry Clinker, and Ruby reads three Walter Scott novels, Rob Roy, Waverley and The Heart of Midlothian. Not quite the Rory Gilmore reading list (I've never seen that show once, just know it by repute) but a fair bit to live up to.
June 14, 2016
Brilliant Brit
I enjoyed this wonderful book immensely, and would recommend it enthusiastically to all my British family and friends鈥攅xcept that all my British friends have already read it! My only hesitation in an American context is that people who have not grown up in postwar Britain as Kate Atkinson (and I) did might not get her dense texture of forgotten brand-names and vanished social customs. In this, she is pitch-perfect, recalling not only the lost era of her own childhood but also the England of her grandparents and parents. I can see why there is a Reader's Guide on the market, for Atkinson's museum contains an almost archaeological treasure that, though sometimes needing annotation, is always authentic.
But her factual authenticity is nothing compared to her authenticity as a person. For the story of the growth of her narrator-heroine Ruby Lennox from conception into young womanhood is that of a life not so much described as lived. I assume that the book is largely autobiographical, but it does not read as that either, since Ruby (who always speaks in a voice older than her years, and can be marvelously funny) is so much alive that she leaps off the page as an independent creation, clearly informed by the author's love-hate relationship with the other members of her extended family, but by no means following her footsteps. It is almost a pity at the end when she comes of age, and the provocative double focus of adult/child merges into one.
The various chapters of Ruby's story, told chronologically, are interspersed with long "footnotes" investigating different episodes in the lives of her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother (this is a feminist book without making a fetish of it), their siblings, and the various men who affect their lives. These stretch back into the late 19th century, spanning two world wars, and show (as other readers have pointed out) how much the lives of women have changed in the past century. I found that many of the most moving parts of the book, some of which brought tears to my eyes, were contained in these sections. But they are told out of chronological order and feature a large cast of characters; I wish I had thought to jot down a timeline and family tree as I was reading.
Various reviews quoted in the paperback edition compare Atkinson to Dickens. Although her voice is quite different, there are certain similarities: both authors enjoy mystery and belated revelations, both have a fondness for highly colored characters, both share a comic vision, and both tend towards the melodramatic. There is more than the average amount of tragedy in this book, and few of their lives follow predictable paths. But Atkinson's characters do not lose reality because of this but seem more vigorously alive. Given Atkinson's infectious voice and grasp on life, the overall effect of this book is wonderfully exhilarating.
+ + + + + +
For another magnificently authentic account of life in Britain in the years around WW2, I recommend Andrea Levy's recent . And for a book that attempts a somewhat similar family saga to Atkinson's, but in an American context, I suggest Carol Shields' modern classic . Both these books are among the best I have read in 2006; Behind The Scenes will make a third.
I enjoyed this wonderful book immensely, and would recommend it enthusiastically to all my British family and friends鈥攅xcept that all my British friends have already read it! My only hesitation in an American context is that people who have not grown up in postwar Britain as Kate Atkinson (and I) did might not get her dense texture of forgotten brand-names and vanished social customs. In this, she is pitch-perfect, recalling not only the lost era of her own childhood but also the England of her grandparents and parents. I can see why there is a Reader's Guide on the market, for Atkinson's museum contains an almost archaeological treasure that, though sometimes needing annotation, is always authentic.
But her factual authenticity is nothing compared to her authenticity as a person. For the story of the growth of her narrator-heroine Ruby Lennox from conception into young womanhood is that of a life not so much described as lived. I assume that the book is largely autobiographical, but it does not read as that either, since Ruby (who always speaks in a voice older than her years, and can be marvelously funny) is so much alive that she leaps off the page as an independent creation, clearly informed by the author's love-hate relationship with the other members of her extended family, but by no means following her footsteps. It is almost a pity at the end when she comes of age, and the provocative double focus of adult/child merges into one.
The various chapters of Ruby's story, told chronologically, are interspersed with long "footnotes" investigating different episodes in the lives of her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother (this is a feminist book without making a fetish of it), their siblings, and the various men who affect their lives. These stretch back into the late 19th century, spanning two world wars, and show (as other readers have pointed out) how much the lives of women have changed in the past century. I found that many of the most moving parts of the book, some of which brought tears to my eyes, were contained in these sections. But they are told out of chronological order and feature a large cast of characters; I wish I had thought to jot down a timeline and family tree as I was reading.
Various reviews quoted in the paperback edition compare Atkinson to Dickens. Although her voice is quite different, there are certain similarities: both authors enjoy mystery and belated revelations, both have a fondness for highly colored characters, both share a comic vision, and both tend towards the melodramatic. There is more than the average amount of tragedy in this book, and few of their lives follow predictable paths. But Atkinson's characters do not lose reality because of this but seem more vigorously alive. Given Atkinson's infectious voice and grasp on life, the overall effect of this book is wonderfully exhilarating.
+ + + + + +
For another magnificently authentic account of life in Britain in the years around WW2, I recommend Andrea Levy's recent . And for a book that attempts a somewhat similar family saga to Atkinson's, but in an American context, I suggest Carol Shields' modern classic . Both these books are among the best I have read in 2006; Behind The Scenes will make a third.
July 8, 2020
Puiki, labai patiko
January 7, 2019
The story of a family told from the point of view of Ruby, who begins her narration at her conception. There are a lot of characters and, as is typical for this author, her time hopping among multiple time periods makes the book needlessly complicated. I liked it best when it stuck to the Ruby story. It might be better in print than as an audiobook. 3.5 stars
April 24, 2015
Probably more like 2.5 stars. I absolutely adored , so I was very much looking forward to reading on of her previous titles, but although I enjoyed her play on time in this book (referring to events in the future as well as the past while in the present) as well as her beautiful writing, there were way too many characters in the story, and because of this I didn't connect with any of them. I also thought the book could have been shorter. Maybe my expectations were just too high after Life after life. I'll try her new book which is a follow up on Life after life, but think I'll skip the rest for now.
The Story: Ruby Lennox was conceived grudgingly by Bunty and born while her father, George, was in the Dog and Hare in Doncaster telling a woman in an emerald dress and a D-cup that he wasn't married. Bunty had never wanted to marry George, but here she was, stuck in a flat above the pet shop in an ancient street beneath York Minster, with sensible and sardonic Patrica aged five, greedy cross-patch Gillian who refused to be ignored, and Ruby.
The Story: Ruby Lennox was conceived grudgingly by Bunty and born while her father, George, was in the Dog and Hare in Doncaster telling a woman in an emerald dress and a D-cup that he wasn't married. Bunty had never wanted to marry George, but here she was, stuck in a flat above the pet shop in an ancient street beneath York Minster, with sensible and sardonic Patrica aged five, greedy cross-patch Gillian who refused to be ignored, and Ruby.
August 6, 2023
Fairly good but I felt it lacked something, just not sure what that something is.
Three stars.
Three stars.
May 13, 2007
I enjoyed this book much more than most of the members of my book club. I loved Ruby, the narrator, especially as a child, and I thought that the intricate story was very clever and hilarious. The funniest parts were when Ruby was scathingly commenting about her family members, especially her sisters and parents. Terribly traumatic events happen to this family but they鈥檙e told in such a light and breezy manner (by Ruby during and before her actual lifetime) that I didn鈥檛 find the book at all depressing, but very entertaining. I did find some of the sub-plots (this is an epic book told over decades about this extended family) extremely disturbing. I also was disappointed by parts toward the end of the book: Ruby鈥檚 narrative style which worked so well for me when she was young, making her seem engaged & possessing an acerbic wit, makes her seem distant and unfeeling in the latter part of the story. But even though it ended on a low note for me, I really liked the book as a whole.
January 24, 2024
Old review and rating from 2008. Pay no attention (hidden in spoiler tags for personal reference), as I was a different reader then.
2008:
Nearly 16 years later, I read Life After Life, which has some similarities with the above, but I loved it! See my review HERE.
2008:
Nearly 16 years later, I read Life After Life, which has some similarities with the above, but I loved it! See my review HERE.
April 22, 2019
Pirm膮j寞 Kate Atkinson roman膮 skai膷iau jau po "Gyvenimo po gyvenimo" ir "Griuv臈si懦 dievo". Greta to, kad ir tik臈jausi ka啪ko wow, ir nesitik臈jau (juk piiiirmas), buvo labai smalsu pa啪i奴r臈ti, i拧 ko i拧augo tos dvi nuostabios knygos.
"Behind the Scenes at the Museum" taip pat yra apie 拧eim膮, apie skirtingas kartas (mergait臈-mergina-moteris pasakoja savo pa膷ios istorij膮, o per j膮 atsiskleid啪ia tiek gimin臈s istorija, tiek XX a. Britanija); skaitydama m膮s膷iau, kad labai daug i拧 to, k膮 visai be plano skaitau paskutiniu metu, - didesn臈s ar ma啪esn臈s 拧eimos sagos, santyki懦 ar paslap膷i懦 pj奴viai (jau net bi拧ki pasiilgau ka啪ko visai fikcinio). Ta膷iau Atkinson sugeba padaryti taip, kad bet kokia 拧eima jos puslapiuose atgyt懦 - kad vaikai neb奴t懦 vien lialia cipcip, o bijot懦, jaust懦 pagie啪膮, pavyd膮 ir g臈d膮; kad suaugusieji b奴t懦 ir nejauk奴s, neteisingi, bet ir tvirti ir gyvi. Atkinson persona啪臈s ir persona啪ai niekada neb奴na tez臈 ar id臈ja, jie nekartoja vienas kito, bet ir n臈ra schemati拧kai i拧d臈lioti, kad vienas kit膮 papildyt懦 ar dirbtinai susiprie拧int懦 - tas aktyvus, ta intelektual臈, nu dar gal b奴t懦 gerai koks m臈m臈. Svarbiausia jos knygose - j懦 s膮veika ir ka啪koks esminis nesuderinamumas.
艩iame romane (bet ir da啪nai pas Atkinson) nesuderinamumas, trintis ir nejaukumas atrodo kaip kiekvienos 拧eimos ar bent kiekvien懦 giminyst臈s ry拧i懦 pamatas. Tai sykiu ir dalykas, kurio negali nusimesti, kuris tave formuoja. Kaip ir banalu, bet kai visa tai padaroma pasakojimu - labai paveiku ir tuo pat metu bevilti拧ka.
Atkinson pasakojimas yra 啪avingas, jau net pirmame jos romane matosi, i拧 kur atsiras ir "Gyvenimas", ir "Griuv臈siai". Pasakotojos balsas 拧ok膷ioja per praeit寞, dabart寞 ir ateit寞 taip, tarsi 拧ie trys klodai b奴t懦 dalis bendros srov臈s, per kuri膮 skersai ir i拧ilgai jai duota nardyti. Turb奴t neatsitiktinai ji nuo pat pirm懦 eilu膷i懦 prabyla kaip nardanti - dar tik fizi拧kai, motinos k奴ne, kaip ma啪a, bet jau s膮moninga l膮stel臈; ji geba nardyti tiek per skirtingas laiko plotmes, tiek per s膮moningumo ir nes膮moningumo ir dar neai拧ku kokias b奴senas; tuo pat metu ir nesupranta, kas vyksta, bet sykiu ir suvokia daugiau, nei jos am啪iuje / pad臈tyje 寞manoma - kaip kad prakalbusiai l膮stelei. Apskritai tai ne pasakotojos, o pa膷ios Atkinson pasakojimo savyb臈, kuri v臈liau "Gyvenime" ir "Griuv臈siuose", o ir naujausiame "Transcription" i拧sipl臈tos ir taps bene ry拧kiausiu kiekvienos knygos bruo啪u, galin膷iu visi拧kai papirkt ir nuginkluoti. Mane tai tikrai su啪avi kaskart vis i拧 naujo.
Sykiu skaitydama supratau, kuo dar Atkinson, ypa膷 v臈lesn臈s jos knygos (neskai膷iau tik detektyv懦), atrodo ir yra labai stipri. Ji ka啪kaip sugeba visu savo konkretaus romano pasakojimu 寞k奴nyti vien膮 id臈j膮: kaip kad, pavyzd啪iui, pasikartojantys ir vis kitaip susiklostantys vieno gyvenimo variantai kalba apie gyvenimo pasirinkimus ir tai, kas yra 寞manoma (arba: ar viskas 寞manoma) vieno gyvenimo ribose ("Gyvenimas po gyvenimo"). Apie t膮 id臈j膮 ji ne pasakoja, bet j膮 parodo, priver膷ia skaitant i拧gyventi - tas labiausiai ir paveikia. Pirmame romane to dar tik u啪uomazgos - bet 寞 jas labai gera 啪i奴r臈ti ir matyti, kur visa tai nuves. Kaip ir Ali Smith, man tai tokia gydanti, ugdanti literat奴ra; gal pirmus kartus gyvenime i拧ties pajau膷iu, k膮 turi reik拧t toks pasakymas.
Nor臈jau nuimti 1 啪vaig啪dut臋 tik u啪 durn膮 siu啪eto pos奴k寞 i拧 serijos "a拧 irgi moku kaip Proustas", nespoilinsiu, bet ranka nekilo. Skai膷iau angli拧kai, apie vertim膮 nieko negaliu pasakyti. Labai rekomenduoju.
"Behind the Scenes at the Museum" taip pat yra apie 拧eim膮, apie skirtingas kartas (mergait臈-mergina-moteris pasakoja savo pa膷ios istorij膮, o per j膮 atsiskleid啪ia tiek gimin臈s istorija, tiek XX a. Britanija); skaitydama m膮s膷iau, kad labai daug i拧 to, k膮 visai be plano skaitau paskutiniu metu, - didesn臈s ar ma啪esn臈s 拧eimos sagos, santyki懦 ar paslap膷i懦 pj奴viai (jau net bi拧ki pasiilgau ka啪ko visai fikcinio). Ta膷iau Atkinson sugeba padaryti taip, kad bet kokia 拧eima jos puslapiuose atgyt懦 - kad vaikai neb奴t懦 vien lialia cipcip, o bijot懦, jaust懦 pagie啪膮, pavyd膮 ir g臈d膮; kad suaugusieji b奴t懦 ir nejauk奴s, neteisingi, bet ir tvirti ir gyvi. Atkinson persona啪臈s ir persona啪ai niekada neb奴na tez臈 ar id臈ja, jie nekartoja vienas kito, bet ir n臈ra schemati拧kai i拧d臈lioti, kad vienas kit膮 papildyt懦 ar dirbtinai susiprie拧int懦 - tas aktyvus, ta intelektual臈, nu dar gal b奴t懦 gerai koks m臈m臈. Svarbiausia jos knygose - j懦 s膮veika ir ka啪koks esminis nesuderinamumas.
艩iame romane (bet ir da啪nai pas Atkinson) nesuderinamumas, trintis ir nejaukumas atrodo kaip kiekvienos 拧eimos ar bent kiekvien懦 giminyst臈s ry拧i懦 pamatas. Tai sykiu ir dalykas, kurio negali nusimesti, kuris tave formuoja. Kaip ir banalu, bet kai visa tai padaroma pasakojimu - labai paveiku ir tuo pat metu bevilti拧ka.
Atkinson pasakojimas yra 啪avingas, jau net pirmame jos romane matosi, i拧 kur atsiras ir "Gyvenimas", ir "Griuv臈siai". Pasakotojos balsas 拧ok膷ioja per praeit寞, dabart寞 ir ateit寞 taip, tarsi 拧ie trys klodai b奴t懦 dalis bendros srov臈s, per kuri膮 skersai ir i拧ilgai jai duota nardyti. Turb奴t neatsitiktinai ji nuo pat pirm懦 eilu膷i懦 prabyla kaip nardanti - dar tik fizi拧kai, motinos k奴ne, kaip ma啪a, bet jau s膮moninga l膮stel臈; ji geba nardyti tiek per skirtingas laiko plotmes, tiek per s膮moningumo ir nes膮moningumo ir dar neai拧ku kokias b奴senas; tuo pat metu ir nesupranta, kas vyksta, bet sykiu ir suvokia daugiau, nei jos am啪iuje / pad臈tyje 寞manoma - kaip kad prakalbusiai l膮stelei. Apskritai tai ne pasakotojos, o pa膷ios Atkinson pasakojimo savyb臈, kuri v臈liau "Gyvenime" ir "Griuv臈siuose", o ir naujausiame "Transcription" i拧sipl臈tos ir taps bene ry拧kiausiu kiekvienos knygos bruo啪u, galin膷iu visi拧kai papirkt ir nuginkluoti. Mane tai tikrai su啪avi kaskart vis i拧 naujo.
Sykiu skaitydama supratau, kuo dar Atkinson, ypa膷 v臈lesn臈s jos knygos (neskai膷iau tik detektyv懦), atrodo ir yra labai stipri. Ji ka啪kaip sugeba visu savo konkretaus romano pasakojimu 寞k奴nyti vien膮 id臈j膮: kaip kad, pavyzd啪iui, pasikartojantys ir vis kitaip susiklostantys vieno gyvenimo variantai kalba apie gyvenimo pasirinkimus ir tai, kas yra 寞manoma (arba: ar viskas 寞manoma) vieno gyvenimo ribose ("Gyvenimas po gyvenimo"). Apie t膮 id臈j膮 ji ne pasakoja, bet j膮 parodo, priver膷ia skaitant i拧gyventi - tas labiausiai ir paveikia. Pirmame romane to dar tik u啪uomazgos - bet 寞 jas labai gera 啪i奴r臈ti ir matyti, kur visa tai nuves. Kaip ir Ali Smith, man tai tokia gydanti, ugdanti literat奴ra; gal pirmus kartus gyvenime i拧ties pajau膷iu, k膮 turi reik拧t toks pasakymas.
Nor臈jau nuimti 1 啪vaig啪dut臋 tik u啪 durn膮 siu啪eto pos奴k寞 i拧 serijos "a拧 irgi moku kaip Proustas", nespoilinsiu, bet ranka nekilo. Skai膷iau angli拧kai, apie vertim膮 nieko negaliu pasakyti. Labai rekomenduoju.
January 16, 2022
This may be the darkest book I have read all year, yet the creative writing and absorbing story line kept me turning the pages. I found myself rooting for Ruby (Lennox), the heroine at the center of this sprawling novel. I had to keep reading to find out how she would fare. Her older sister Patricia also captured my heart.
The girls were growing up in the years after World War II in York, England. They had the misfortune of being raised by self-centered parents who showed them little affection. Bunty, their mum, had more interest in doing housework and cataloguing her own grievances. George, their father, had serial affairs.
The back stories of four generations of the family were told in a nonlinear, riveting way. It was hard to keep all of the relatives and their stories straight, as there were so many of them. Some of the stories were linked to family possessions, which got passed down through the generations (ie. a rabbit's foot, a glass button, a mantel clock, etc.)
The atmosphere of the novel was so genuinely British, further intriguing this American reader. That combined with the author's sense of humor softened some of the harsh happenings in the book for me.
Still, I was a bit dismayed when the story became darker as the book continued. This is not a book for the faint-hearted. For this reason, I cannot recommend it to everyone.
Content Warning: Multiple deaths, due both to war and accidents.
4.5 stars
The girls were growing up in the years after World War II in York, England. They had the misfortune of being raised by self-centered parents who showed them little affection. Bunty, their mum, had more interest in doing housework and cataloguing her own grievances. George, their father, had serial affairs.
The back stories of four generations of the family were told in a nonlinear, riveting way. It was hard to keep all of the relatives and their stories straight, as there were so many of them. Some of the stories were linked to family possessions, which got passed down through the generations (ie. a rabbit's foot, a glass button, a mantel clock, etc.)
The atmosphere of the novel was so genuinely British, further intriguing this American reader. That combined with the author's sense of humor softened some of the harsh happenings in the book for me.
Still, I was a bit dismayed when the story became darker as the book continued. This is not a book for the faint-hearted. For this reason, I cannot recommend it to everyone.
Content Warning: Multiple deaths, due both to war and accidents.
4.5 stars
January 27, 2020
Patie拧膩m br墨ni拧k墨gi atkl膩ts dzimtas st膩sts, kas atg膩dina, cik m膿s esam siast墨ti viens ar otru. Pat ja m膿s nezin膩m iepriek拧膿jo paaud啪u st膩stus, tie拧i tie ir viedoju拧i m奴sus pa拧u st膩sta pamatu t膩du, k膩ds tas ir.
No gr膩matas visvair膩k man patika Pazudo拧o Lietu Skapja teorija - galven膩s varones R奴bijas ideja, ka p膿c n膩ves tevi pieved pie skapja, kur膩 ir piln墨gi viss, ko dz墨ves laik膩 esi pazaud膿jis, s膩kot ar miljards matu spr膩dz墨t膿m un otraj膩m ze姆膿m un beidzot ar laiku.
No gr膩matas visvair膩k man patika Pazudo拧o Lietu Skapja teorija - galven膩s varones R奴bijas ideja, ka p膿c n膩ves tevi pieved pie skapja, kur膩 ir piln墨gi viss, ko dz墨ves laik膩 esi pazaud膿jis, s膩kot ar miljards matu spr膩dz墨t膿m un otraj膩m ze姆膿m un beidzot ar laiku.
February 2, 2019
This is an engaging, witty, slips-down-easy novel, aiming for greater depth and bite as it meanders towards its ending. In some ways, it reminded me of Anna Burns鈥檚 recent Milkman (the snarky, under-age narrator; the eccentric family; the surface cynicism muting into eventual edgy warmth)鈥攁lthough I felt Milkman had a lot more to say.
Behind the Scenes works on a number of chronological planes. The lead narrative is a coming-of-age piece, centered on the story of a girl born in York in 1952, Ruby Lennox. This is all plainly autobiographical, and none the worse for that. (Atkinson herself was born in York in 1951.)
Stacked up behind Ruby鈥檚 story, in a series of faux footnotes, are the stories of her mother, and her grandmother and great-grandmother鈥攁nd of any number of uncles and great-uncles, and cousins. Taken together, these sub-stories combine with the main story to make up some kind of collective domestic biography of the whole twentieth century in the UK, incorporating both world wars and the social changes that accompanied them. There is a certain鈥攄iscreet鈥攆ocus on women, and on their lack of choices in life, but this is far from exclusive. The novel is also good on the dynamic of 鈥渨oman hands on misery to woman.鈥�
I don鈥檛 want to be too ponderous in reviewing Behind the Scenes, because it's not ponderous itself. Some of it is very funny, especially the set-piece episodes. I liked the extended accounts of a disastrous family holiday in Scotland in the 70s, and of an equally disastrous family wedding soon afterwards.
This is a novel rather free in its borrowings (the opening scene is imitated from Tristram Shandy, and there is a flagrant borrowing from Ariosto later on, in the form of the 鈥渓ost property locker鈥� philosophy of life). Yet it is equally generous to those who come after鈥擨 can鈥檛 believe, for example, that Ian McEwan was not influenced in his Nutmeg by Atkinson鈥檚 treatment of the knowing foetal voice.
Behind the Scenes works on a number of chronological planes. The lead narrative is a coming-of-age piece, centered on the story of a girl born in York in 1952, Ruby Lennox. This is all plainly autobiographical, and none the worse for that. (Atkinson herself was born in York in 1951.)
Stacked up behind Ruby鈥檚 story, in a series of faux footnotes, are the stories of her mother, and her grandmother and great-grandmother鈥攁nd of any number of uncles and great-uncles, and cousins. Taken together, these sub-stories combine with the main story to make up some kind of collective domestic biography of the whole twentieth century in the UK, incorporating both world wars and the social changes that accompanied them. There is a certain鈥攄iscreet鈥攆ocus on women, and on their lack of choices in life, but this is far from exclusive. The novel is also good on the dynamic of 鈥渨oman hands on misery to woman.鈥�
I don鈥檛 want to be too ponderous in reviewing Behind the Scenes, because it's not ponderous itself. Some of it is very funny, especially the set-piece episodes. I liked the extended accounts of a disastrous family holiday in Scotland in the 70s, and of an equally disastrous family wedding soon afterwards.
This is a novel rather free in its borrowings (the opening scene is imitated from Tristram Shandy, and there is a flagrant borrowing from Ariosto later on, in the form of the 鈥渓ost property locker鈥� philosophy of life). Yet it is equally generous to those who come after鈥擨 can鈥檛 believe, for example, that Ian McEwan was not influenced in his Nutmeg by Atkinson鈥檚 treatment of the knowing foetal voice.
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